Poetry
We read each other’s minds
daily well into the night
and all over again
you kiss your fingers
choosing words carefully
before you touch the keys
as if they will reach me
your silent lips
kiss your finger tips
before they touch the keys
before they will ever touch me
channels
turned on,
signals of insanity
parallels of invisibility
waiting for the touch
waiting for the feel
morse code
requesting braille
poetry
Candide Diderot. ‘24
“Her”. Rosenfeld.
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